Persona 4 Lost Episodes: Naoto Shirogane
by Shirogane Chronicles
Summary: The extended cut of Naoto Shirogane's S. Link. Soon after Naoto joins the investigation team, she suspects Souji is hiding a secret from everyone - and she's right. While taking precautions to keep the Velvet Room under wraps, Souji finds himself beginning to trust Naoto's cunning intuition, leaving complications when he councels Kanji's feelings.
1. Preface

**Preface**

I remember the exact moment it happened. In a gust of black smoke, staring into the coils of the shadow's laser gun, I learned that _he_ was a _she_.

Kanji's face was filled with exasperated relief, eyes fiery with angered surprise. Without Naoto's deceit, we may not have fought through a murky sauna where we found Kanji's other self bearing nothing but a towel between his legs, spouting questions of his own sexuality. But now that Naoto was actually female, I needed to face questions of my own.

As the shadow rose from the storm cloud of Naoto's soul, it declared that the detective prince was a _princess_, and we were there not because of her bold sacrifice to solve the case, but because she was a damsel too – like all of us – looking desperately for acceptance.

* * *

Naoto recovered faster than everybody before her. She insisted we discuss the case immediately – no breaks, no recovery, no chance to piece together what just happened to her in the other world. But she appeared promptly at the bench in the Junes food court – calm and prepared for anything. Me and the rest of the Investigation Team soon joined her with more hope than usual that we would get our questions answered.

"Judging by the culprits build," said Naoto, "he was definitely a man. And because I didn't hear him speak or gesture, we now know for certain that the culprit is working alone."

_A man_, I thought, staring at Naoto's 'build', wondering how she could so casually belittle her own figure for a stronger physique. Those clear eyes, glazed as she told her story, piecing together loose ends with her Holmes-like vision. She noticed the smaller details. While Yukiko and Kanji were fogged by their normal routine, Naoto waited for the killer with a keen sense for mundane detail. She expected that she might be drugged or her senses might be clouded. Even when the doorbell rang and everything went black, rather than rabidly wishing for freedom, she continued to contemplate what was happening to her. She had to put aside her survival instinct of letting emotion cloud her memory. Instead, she honed her senses and gathered data that would be more useful for future victims.

She was brilliant, yet pained expressions surrounded her. Though her life was in danger, her ability to separate herself from the situation was so awe inspiring that it was terrifying.

Kanji banged on the table and abruptly stood. "Couldn't you have done something to stop him? Weren't you prepared?!"

Naoto's analytical trance broke and her lips pursed in surprise. She looked up at his domineering posture. His emotion was too irrational to pinpoint in an articulate explanation. As she processed his outburst, pink spread across his face. "I mean," he softened, fear heating his cheeks, "I just- You're a detective prince, dammit. You should have done something!"

"To be honest," said Naoto, breaking eye contact and looking toward her fidgeting hands, "I was scared."

_Scared..._ The Investigation Team became still. Her lips were parted slightly, emitting shallow breaths, and the soft ivory skin below her eyes showed signs of sleeplessness. Her tenacity was mistaken for invincibility. Though she harnessed strength in her kidnapping, like those before her, it took a deep psychological toll on her ego. Her shadow had emerged, torn out her ugliest insides and showed them to her. And now, after looking at them, she had to carry on knowing her weaknesses. The Investigation Team wasn't realizing just how strong those weaknesses were.

While weaving her fingers in and out of knots, she slowly brightened to what seemed like a simple conclusion. Her clear, transcendent eyes flickered to me with a polite reverence, a complexity inside her I felt I was only beginning to understand. "If you will," she said, "I would like to join your team." I gave a brief nod. In response a wry smile, subtle and charming, flashed to her face for only an instant as she called me her leader for the first time.

* * *

**Author's Note (update 4/15/13): **Hello readers and fellow Persona fans. Thanks to a few great positive reviews and encouragement, I have gone back and revised parts of this first piece. Though this scene was taken directly from the game, it is here as a base to establish where we are and where we will soon go. The scenes following, I promise, will veer off the path and become its own. Please read on, review, and enjoy!


	2. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1**

Even though female students took a shine to her when she transferred to Yasogami High, Naoto responded to admirers with a cold indifference. She enrolled in this school program for suspicious reasons: not for academics, but for work. After the first victim, all kidnappings occurred to the students at this very school, causing Naoto to tail the next victim - herself - by enrolling as a student. At least, that's how her intentions seemed. "She has no friends. We should ask if she wants to hang out with us," suggested Chie the day Naoto transferred. But when we found her in the first year hallway, she was already swarmed by offers. "You should hang out with us." "We'll show you around." Naoto rejected every offer.

But I was different. My friends and I were obviously involved in the case. We were the only students she had her sights set on, yet she approached cautiously and only when the time was right. She was wary toward us, and so was I of her. But rescuing her from the jaws of murder changed me. She risked her life for all of us - and I was now beyond intrigued.

One overcast afternoon, two first years directed me to the library where I sure enough found her. She faced the window with a stack of textbooks, carefully etching glyphs onto graph paper with a fountain pen. Like during our Investigation Team meeting, her attention was consumed. She looked up only to navigate the text, then dove back down to finish recording her find. The library atmosphere - the soft whispers of students, the base drum of a book slapped against a desk, the clattering of keys and the smell of cedar - had faded away in Naoto's concentration. To think that she can observe everything at once and also nothing at all made her intelligence seem boundless.

"Why do I have the feeling this isn't school work?" I said after carefully rehearsing the line in my head. I approached Naoto's table with a slow stride and prayed she wouldn't brush me off as she had the others.

"Senpai?" Naoto looked up to me, warmth showing on her lips, eyes bright with pleasant surprise. "Are you seeking information about the case as well?"

"I guess you can say that," I said, though I realized I had little clue why I was there other than to see her. My true intentions struck me as idiotic. I struggled to think of a better explanation.

"As you can imagine, I've certainly been mulling the case over more than school work." She closed her book and turned its cover to face me: a technicolor splash with a circular chart garnished with images of gods and symbols. "Who would have thought I would be reading something like this baseless thing to learn about Shadows and Personas?" Humor played in her voice, amused at her own expense. "The only mention of them that has come close to what we've observed I've found in Jungian Psychology. But it's not fact-based and focuses a lot on the unknown and spirituality. Hardly the type of evidence a detective hopes for. Then again, I already need to suspend all disbelief to understand the shadow world to begin with."

"I'm sure Teddie would be happy to hear your finds," I remarked.

"Teddie? He might not. He's a mystery all on his own. Shadows and Personas are _psychology_ terms. It's doubtful I can explain a boy in a bear costume through research like this. Really, the research seems pointless. But detective work is painstaking in that regard." She placed the book back into her stack and patted her notes in line. "You're free to sit. If you like."

I obliged and took the seat across from her, cautious to keep a comfortable distance. The second I lowered to her eye level and directly faced her, the power in her position heated. I felt like as I had just entered an interrogation room.

"I did speak with Teddie about everything," she began. A mischievous smirk, playful and small, emerged as she bluffed her cause. "Teddie really looks up to you. He told me something intriguing, something I wasn't able to reasonably witness myself while I was over there. He said you were chosen as the leader because you awakened to your Persona without facing your Shadow. And. Not only that. You have multiple Personas."

"That's true."

"Why is that, I wonder?"

I realized now that her warmth toward me when I approached her was only a trick. Rather, she wanted something out of me. Maybe we were not beginning to develop a friendship after all, but she was continuing to ignore the bonds we might build for her work. But when I imagined her vulnerable, scared moment gripping the edges of the surgical chair, I wanted to believe she had more righteous intentions.

"Not talking?" she said, and her smile turned genuine again. "Another mystery then," declared Naoto, suddenly satisfied with an unsatisfactory answer. "I never thought I would be the one to say this, but there are too many mysteries. I must refrain from taking them all at once and proceed slowly." With a slender hand she adjusted her hat, sending ripples through her tossled silk hair. She had a smile that knew nothing and everything at once. Despite all of these mysteries, she was the greatest one of all.

* * *

**Author Update (4/15/13): **Today I have revised this chapter in a very big way. I hope to have altered the chemistry between characters for the better.  
More is to come. Please review, subscribe, and enjoy!


	3. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

At the flood plane during twilight, Kanji slumped on the picnic bench where he told me to meet him. His wrists dangled on his knees and his head hung low. His bright bleached hair hovered above the ground. Without looking up he said, "It's about time you showed up." His voice was gruff, much harsher than the warmth he normally greeted me with.

"Sorry. Held up at basketball practice," I said, stopping a couple yards away, hesitant to approach him in his _mood_.

With a groan, he readjusted, lifting his craning head and acknowledging me with a furrowed brow. "I gotta talk straight with you, man. All I need right now is for you to beat some sense into me."

"Why? Did something happen?"

"Naw. Nothing terrible. It's just, you know Yosuke? He's been _reeeally_ bothering me. 'You don't _actually_ swing that way, do you Kanji?' and all that. Psh. I'm just mad 'cause I let it dig under my skin." Wincing as though hurt by a painful thought, his head collapsed into his hands. "I have my head screwed on all wrong. I'm a goddam idiot."

"Yosuke has insecurities of his own about girls," I said. "He's only taking it out on you."

"Hah. You always know the right thing to say. It's true isn't it? I mean, nobody deserves to give Yosuke-senpai a hard time because of what happened to that Saki Konishi girl. But I'm just fair game to him, aren't I? He acts like an asshole to make himself feel better about his own failed love life, but that ain't fair to me!"

"What's to say you have a failed love life?" I said, sauntering up to him to see the full nuance of his pained face.

"Oh, you know. On some silly little public access program called _The Midnight Channel! _You guys saw everything. And if Naoto-kun saw that – what I was like – I'd have no hope in redeeming myself at all." He jutted out of his seat, the jacket on his shoulders whooshing behind him like a cape. "No more talking about this crap. I'm going for a walk."

I trailed behind him, struggling to keep up with his long strides and the powerful manner he pushed through the wind. "Is that what this is about? Naoto-kun?" I called.

"Naoto? Who's talking about Naoto?" he said, pushing forward, marching toward the sparkling beads of the black river.

"You were. You did just now."

"Fine." Without warning, he stopped and turned. I landed face-first into his jagged chest. "I've a question for you, Senpai. Were you with Naoto yesterday?"

"Yeah. So?"

His nostrils were flaring and his eyes, fully dilated. He was my best friend yesterday but today I brandished a red cape and he bore the horns. "You think me and Naoto have something. Is that it?" I said, bracing myself.

"I'm telling you. Just punch me and tell me how retarded I am. Beat the hell out of me. It'll fix me right up." His resolve was firm. His chest puffed out and he leered forward with intent to kill.

"Relax, Kanji," I said, now desperate to appease his flaring emotion. "There's nothing going on between me and Naoto. We're just working together on the case."

"Huh." Slowly, his shoulders loosened and his breath softened. I watched the fire in his eyes cool to warm embers as this new rationale corrected all the insecurities piling in his mind. "Really? That's it? You and Naoto..."

"Yep."

"Jeez." He filled his lungs and heaved out a massive breath, destroying all of the tension between us in a single motion. Tenderness returned in his expression and finally he saw me as his faithful partner once more. "I'm sorry, Senpai. If I think about it that way, it makes sense that our leader and the detective would be working together." I gave him a reassuring smile, restoring his faith in me completely.

We resumed walking along the riverbank until the sky turned completely black. As we shared a silent moment together, I noticed his unique gentleness and passion toward all he cared for. His feelings for Naoto were genuine. Both before and after he knew her secret, he harbored feelings for her. Perhaps this was more than a crush, but he understood the real Naoto more than I ever could have. A surprising emotion seared in my chest at this new thought. It convulsed inside me, branding me with visions of rage, wishes that inflicted harm on Kanji. I resolved to muster the will to brush my emotion aside. I cared for Kanji too much to let a petty emotion get in the way of our friendship.


	4. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

For Kanji's sake, I decided to avoid Naoto. If just the image of us talking pained him, I was better off avoiding attachment altogether. Despite my conscious intent, I found myself wandering to the first floor of Yasogami High where the first years get out. I kept telling myself I wasn't looking for Naoto. There was a good chance I may spot a different friend, like Yukiko or Ai, but when I looked in the direction Naoto tended to loiter, a weight bunched up in my chest. She wasn't there. Suddenly all the drive and motivation in my day flew away. I wanted to see her there in her regal stance, contrasting the beige walls, the crass students, and the sinful teachers. In this stifling school setting, Naoto shone as a being beyond perfection, as somebody who has scanned the floor to the ceiling in a glance, analyzed the students and has chosen the evidence to reject or to retain, regarding information indifferently until the pieces began to stick together. I didn't know what she thought of me, whether I was a conclusion or another unused piece of data, but I was eager to find out. This eagerness seemed beyond my control.

I wandered the hall, contemplating how to best spend my day when all thought stopped. Naoto was here after all – at the lockers. Her sudden appearance startled me. How embarrassing, to have such charged thoughts in earshot of who I was thinking about, even if she couldn't hear them. Keeping my posture as that of total indifference, I approached my own locker and idly spun the knob.

A soft note came from Naoto. "Hmm." Then, after a pause, "What's this?" I heard no sounds of rubber soles against the tile floor. No ruffling of school uniforms or backpacks. We were the only ones there, so she must have been remarking for me to join in. Standing with my back facing her, I turned my head enough to see her in my peripherals. She was turning over a light pink note sealed with a sticker the shape of a heart.

"A love letter?" I asked.

"It appears so," she sighed. "I assume the sender is female, based on the choice of stationery and inscription on the front." An unreadable expression crushed her face, showing this object bothered her more than flattered her. She was admired by men and women alike, but by the careful gender-neutral manner she carried herself, it was impossible to judge her true sexual preference. For whatever reason, women's interest caused some complication in her mind. "In other words," she said, "there's no reason to read it."

This casual discard fueled me with curiosity. It was only natural for a detective to disregard extemporaneous information in order to preserve her mind. She must be careful with her selection, for when she sees, she sees everything entirely: its past, present, and future.

Her judgment that the sender was female sparked me to consider the alternative. I only knew of one admirer and he was capable of producing something pink. He had a designer's eye for cute, and since I recently spoke with him about taking action, this hypothesis was plausible. With a slow saunter I joined her side and regarded the note.

"But," I said, and her eyes sparkled toward me curiously, "what if the sender is a guy?"

"A guy?" She turned the card over once more, with its perfect creases and slight scent of floral perfume. She re-analyzed the envelope and came to the same conclusion: _a woman, obviously_. She looked up to me, her lips parted in bewilderment, asking herself a different question than she had originally. Why was I introducing this possibility when it was obviously all wrong? Then an answer entered her mind. Her eyes widened and pink airbrushed her cheeks. _YOU?!_

With a hardened expression, I made no move to deny her unspoken accusation.

Just then, a shrill voice erupted from down the hall. "Senpaii! I thought I heard your voice. Even without my Persona, my senses are razor sharp."

Rise bounded up to me with bouncing hair and a radiating smile. Her fierce will was blindingly bright, with sights set on stealing me for the day, possibly with a trip to Okinawa Theater to study up on female stars. She was impossible to deny, making Yosuke jealous. But to be honest, Rise was too much for one person to handle.

"Oh. Naoto-kun. You're here too?" said Rise, bubbly with a fierce undertone.

"No," Naoto looked down and away, eyes wandering everywhere but toward me. "Actually, I was leaving. I have matters at the station to attend to. Excuse me."

"Wait," said Rise. "What's this you're holding?" She leaned in close, taking in the wafting scent of the card. With a startled jump, she gave a theatrical gasp. "A love letter! Were you about to give this to our Senpai?"

Naoto couldn't hide from turning completely red. High school drama was not her specialty. "That- That's a ridiculous accusation!"

"Come on! Don't be embarrassed." Rise's grin expanded menacingly. "Though I am surprised at you, Naoto-kun. I didn't see you as the type to develop a crush so fast."

Naoto's face was bright with fear, exposure written all over her body as if she was adorned in a dress and forced to confess to her secrets in front of a live audience.

"Hmm? Am I missing something?" a calm, feather-light voice entered the fray. From my shoulder to Rise's, we opened up like a gate to show Yukiko, who spied on the scene with innocent interest. "Something about Naoto?"

Rise gave a soft giggle. "Yeah. She was just confessing her love to Senpai."

"Please!" Naoto breathlessly attempted to interrupt the chatter. "If you'll excuse me, I must go now." She pushed through us with a grasp on the rim of her hat. Her slender legs carried her briskly out the front entrance, leaving the three of us standing with our focal point of communication gone. Rise regarded me with a warm smile, now free entirely from hostility.

Yukiko fixed facing the front exit. "She seemed hurt. Do you think we should follow her and see if she's alright?"

"I'm sure she's fine. It's natural to be a little embarrassed sometimes," said Rise. "I know from experience it's something you'll have to face on your own."


	5. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

Tatsumi Textiles never looked so menacing. Doors wide open, beckoning to its claustrophobic corridor of colorful patterns, knitted bunnies, and an old lady with a serene face. "Hello dear," she called, trapping me with her stare, "Are you looking for Kanji? I couldn't get him to go to school. He's a nice boy, but when he gets an idea in his head..."

"No, it's alright, Ms. Tatsumi. I don't need to see Kanji," I said while giving a swift bow, drops of perspiration flying from my forehead. After what happened with the love letter, gossip spread fast. Neither Kanji nor Naoto showed up to school. I had been contracted by Kashiwagi to track Kanji down since his attendance is too terrible to ignore. Yet, I was in no condition to talk to Kanji. He didn't go to school to _avoid_ me. In his mind, I betrayed him. He was ready to throw me through a mountain by simply talking to Naoto. But when rumors started flying, his feelings went beyond rage and into something devastating.

Giving Kanji's mother a warm smile, I said, "Just let him know that we're all concerned for him and need him to pull through. Not for just me, but for all of his friends."

"That's very sweet. I'll certainly let him know," said Kanji's mother. And with that I willed my legs to charge away straight toward Junes.

* * *

Because Kashiwagi let me off school, I decided to take a holiday in the Velvet Room. Igor's nose disturbed my concentration as I shuffled my Persona cards, contemplating fusions and testing Margaret's iron patience. But I came to a steadfast conclusion and watched the cards collide, power flashing between them in one of hundreds of rituals. The card glided into my hand, generating a surge of pride as I left the limo and entered the unknown of the TV world.

Though the Investigation Team and I agreed to never enter the world on our own, I had to stop inside from time to time to conceal my secret of the Velvet Room. And given Naoto's curiosity of my secrets, spending some alone time seemed like an appropriate choice as a leader.

My own will sent me in the direction of the home of Naoto's shadows – her underground detective's lair. It was a vulnerable spot, born from her deepest secrets. Naturally I had a desire to explore there once more, just to check if I left an element about her unchecked.

The soles of my shoes echoed through the metal tunnels. Electric doors sensed my presence and whirred to life, lowering their steel panels garnished with rust. The halls were peacefully alive with bubblegum monsters sliding on their tongues and snakes hula hooping with Venus symbols. It was ironically, totally ordinary. My comfort level in this setting was alarmingly high.

Before reaching the stairs, a loud pop threatened me with the possibility of danger. I crouched into a fighting stance, pressing my palms tight against my katana, My eyes and ears opened. My glasses phased through the fog as I peered down the hall. Another pop resounded and this time its origin was clear. I took off in a stealthy sprint down the hall and rounded a corner. As two moth-like enemies came into view, I immediately halting. The shadows were attacking somebody.

A flash of light came, capturing one of creatures and disappearing with it. Another identical enemy darted forward. And there Naoto was, taking quick jagged steps backward with her gun propped horizontal to her forearms, poised to shoot. Her focus was as sharp as her posture, precise as she always was. Her lip disappeared as she bit it, lowering an eyebrow in determination that spoke more than her constructed image. Her delicate finger pulled the trigger and the enemy blew up in a final puff of black smoke. The battle was over.

I retreated behind the corner, determined not to show myself. We were both committing sins against our friends; she was better off not knowing mine. Though I could no longer see her, my blazing curiosity strained to listen to her. She gave a soft sigh. Her heels scratched against the floor and her long, blue jacket ruffled as I assume she moved to sit on the floor. She could be tired. Or weak. Perhaps I was leaving her in danger if I went back to the entrance.

I stood, holding my breath in the hollow corridor when I heard a sound come from Naoto's soft lips – little gasps. Her airy, undeepened voice was heart-wrenching. A vulnerable moan sighed out and her clothing gave another shake. She was crying. But why?

My determination to comfort her was drowned out by doubt. Likely I was the last person she wanted to see. Without me, she would not be skipping school or entering the TV alone. She wouldn't be facing her fears all over again. My empathy was rampant and my arms were weak holding my heavy two-handed sword. But silence came once again. And after a moment, her shoes scraped against the ground as she stood again.

_Clip, clop, clip, clop..._

Her footsteps...

They were getting louder. And coming _this way_.

The hall was too long and too far to run back without being seen as a maniac. And the manner I stood then had STALKER written all over it. A difference in posture was all I could do. Emulating _confidence,_ I leaned my back against the wall and propped my sword up next to me. Yep. As if I was there forever.

Naoto appeared, legs spread wide apart, arms extended gripping her gun. She pointed it at me with a hardened expression. At least, seemingly hardened. Her nose was wrinkled and her eyebrows jutted downward, but her lips were parted and her eyes were wide. "S-senpai?!"

"Yep," I said.

She lowered her weapon, a blush heating her cheeks. "I'm sorry. I can't believe I pointed a rifle at you."

"It's fine," I said. "I'm not supposed to be here. Actually. _Neither_ of us are."

"I'm aware that was our agreement," said Naoto, slipping her gun back into her harness and adjusting her jacket over it. "If it makes you feel any at ease, this is the first time I entered the TV world alone." She brushed her sleeves against her cheek, smearing the moist tears. "I have no intention of doing it again."

"It's okay," I said.

"_Okay?_ Senpai, I put myself in danger and by doing so could have inflicted harm on the others as well. This is a grave offense. You shouldn't be light on me."

"You mean I should punish you?"

"Er. Well... I suppose that's what I was getting at. Yes."

"I couldn't do that. After all, we're both here. I am just as guilty as you are, so I wouldn't tell anybody else we were here alone."

"Alone," she echoed the word, the deep weight in her voice giving it depth beyond my intent. Upon meeting my eyes, she quickly turned away. "Senpai," she said, weakly, with a small crack in her voice. "Did you follow me here?"

I had no way to answer her question. Technically, I did not follow her. I was unaware she was even here. But upon discovering her, the temptation was too large. Part of me felt defensive. I didn't want her to know that I willingly, against the rules, came here as much as I pleased.

Detecting my hesitation, Naoto said, "It's alright. You do not need to answer my inquiries."

Once again, she let a question slide without an answer, just like that time in the library. Resisting herself an answer seemed completely beyond her nature. "Wait a second," I said. "_You're_ the one who's being light on _me._"

She chuckled softly. "I suppose so."

We began walking back to the entrance together, side-by-side. She had a solemn drag to her step that was limp and weak.

"Are you hurt?" I asked. "I can heal you with my Persona."

"You have a Persona capable of healing?" said Naoto. "Your Persona was skilled in physical attacks, last I saw, and I'm sure it wouldn't be adept at healing abilities." She stopped in her tracks and for the first time today looked me in the eyes, showing the boundless depths of her clear irises as they sparkled with excitement. "Is this a _new_ Persona?" she asked.

"That's right. Just born today."

I drew my card out from my breast pocket and let it flash into a ball of energy. A silhouette of the Persona first appeared like a hologram but it quickly solidified and became an entity. It looked like a humanoid lady bug – a red figure with a colorful, patterned cape that attached by the hands. The Persona floated as if by its own strength of will. Extending its arms out toward Naoto, it cast Diarahan and filled Naoto with strength.

"Incredible," she mused, reaching out toward the Persona, tempted to touch it. "I can't believe something this beautiful can come from your heart."

"Are you implying that you thought the depths of my heart are not beautiful?" I smiled, watching serenity wash over her as she gazed at the new fusion – Kaguya Hime.

"No. Not at all. Simply, I mean to say that your heart's capabilities are boundless. One day I hope to come close to that level of acceptance with my own self." The Persona faded from view, back into a tiny ball of energy that drifted back into my soul. Naoto's eyes tore into me, trying to navigate every crevice of the vessel capable of forming hundreds of Personas. The stress in her face was all gone now. Her skin was smooth and relaxed. She seemed to have found what she was looking for, here in the underground lair, alone together.


	6. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Yukiko decided to share a boxed lunch with me on the school's rooftop. Though her cooking has marginally improved, I often suspected a fatality. Letting the sun warm our skin, she sat elegantly atop the roof's edge, her legs crossed at the knee and her black tights showing defined thighs and slender calves. A pleasant smile rose to her eyes in little crescents. She was a lady – polite and mild-mannered. But as we sat together, actually enjoying our meals, I realized that I wasn't as enchanted by Yukiko as I thought I should be.

"I wanted to apologize for the other day," said Yukiko, long fingers wrapped around her chopsticks, letting the utensils dance around her California rolls. "I seem to have come in at a bad time."

"No. You were fine," I said, lowering my chin and squinting an eye at her, intrigued that she brought it up.

"Naoto-kun seemed hurt though," insisted Yukiko. "I mean, when she left she didn't even take her card with her."

"Her card?" The note flashed in my mind: the image of Naoto holding it, terror painting her lips and cheeks. "What happened to it?"

"I have it. I'd like to return it to you." Leaving her chopsticks jutting out of her square bowl, she reached within her jacket pocket and retrieved the card still unwrinkled.

"You don't have to give it to me. It's not mine."

"I know." Her gaze fell to the card, rotating it with the speed and grace of a turning display case. "It didn't look like you, but I think you'll know what to do with it."

I extended my hand and grasped the envelope, letting the thick card stock graze against my skin as if Yukiko bestowed a sin upon me. This shouldn't have been in my possession.

"Poor Naoto-kun." Yukiko's solemn gaze drifted back to her untouched meal, lips twisted in sympathy. "She must feel so confused."

"What do you mean confused?" Sitting beside her, I felt like gravity pulled me toward Yukiko, hanging loyally on her delicate words. She may have earned a reputation as a ditz within the Investigation Team, but her intuition on people's inner-selves was unmatched.

"It's hard to say, but I feel for Naoto. Her shadow reminds me a lot of Kanji's. He acts like a man, but he's effeminate inside. Though Naoto..." Her defined cheekbones flashed into round apples for a moment as she squinted in speculation. "Mm. You know, nevermind. I'm having silly thoughts."

"No," I said, surprising myself with my abrupt, serious tone. "Tell me."

Her smile glowed at me, skin radiating like a light was shining out from within her, giving her skin a soft shimmer. A small, embarrassed giggle flickered from her lips. "I feel like Naoto and Kanji are bound by fate. It's crazy, I know. But they're cute. It's like what you'd see in a novel."

Instantly, the light from within her blacked out. I felt darkness cloud my senses. _Naoto and Kanji – bound by fate – cute together – a romance novel._ My insides contracted and crushed into a ball. I felt as if I might be imploding. Or exploding, considering the sudden jolt of rage I received. Yukiko's smile remained and I looked all the same. "What about me?" I managed to say in a careful deadpan.

"You? Isn't it obvious?" With a graceful glide, Yukiko fell to her feet and clicked her black flats toward the exit stairwell as lunch came to an end. "You are tied to _all_ of our fates."

* * *

Naoto, back in school again, looked directly to me when I descended the staircase to the first-year hallway. Her gaze didn't falter, fixed on me with anticipation.

"Senpai," she greeted, tipping her hat with playful formality as I undoubtedly strolled in her direction.

"I need to talk to you," I said. Yukiko's final words were still palpitating in my chest, so my speech was weightier. It couldn't be helped.

"Is something wrong?" Naoto said, standing close, hesitating before placing a hand on my shoulder. "Is it about the case?"

"Please," I bit my lip fiercely and felt parts of my face quiver. "Will you let me walk you home?"

* * *

We walked halfway through the shopping district together in silence. My shoulders felt tense up to my ears and my heart would ping with a metallic sensation. Doses of hormones rekindled my sensitive feelings every few steps. Butterflies were raging in my stomach with side-effects crawling up to my eyes and making them want to water. Along with my anger and sadness, I had extreme nostalgia, yearning to keep my old delusions of hope before Yukiko woke me up to the real situation – the real stars of the romance novel. My entire body was convinced that Kanji loved Naoto. But also it was nature's intention that Naoto will soon return the feeling.

Naoto's sensitive gaze observed me, detecting the pain in my step, my tone, and my face. "I know that you are upset, but I won't know how to help you until you clarify what happened with me. You can rest assured that I will listen to you and try to understand." As she walked, she gradually moved closer to me. "I don't like to see you this way, Senpai."

"Me neither," I said, balling my hands into fists, digging my nails into my palms. "It's very unlike me."

"I'm sure we both agree on that fact," said Naoto, offering a smile of reassurance. "But everybody has their dark moments, even when that person has no shadow to face."

I stopped walking. We had reached Naoto's home and there were no more steps to take. We were at the end of the line, yet my metallic heart was still panicking. I didn't want to leave her. Not on a note like this, when I had insecurities raging in my head. "I guess this is goodbye then," I said, speaking the opposite words I wanted to say.

"Wait. Senpai," Naoto's sparkling eyes looked like a puppy's, wide with sadness and concern. "You don't have to say goodbye right now. I'd prefer that you tell me what's bothering you. Even if you feel it's petty, nothing that makes you this upset is a small matter. I will attend to it with my full attention. I promise."

After a long pause, I gave a deep sigh. "There is one thing."

I reached in my breast pocket and pulled out the card. With a fall of my forearm, I extended the envelope to Naoto.

"This..." Naoto raised an eyebrow. She looked to me, gaping in awe and surprise.

"Yukiko gave this to me to give to you. I did not write it," I said, deep and stern.

Her gaze fell, disappointment sweeping her face as a heavy emotion seemed to set within her as well. "I see," she said. "But in the least, you seem to know who it's from."

"I think I may know. Yes."

A heavy silence descended upon us. Naoto's hat draped a shadow over her eyes as she turned to grasp the doorknob of her front door. She stayed there for a long moment.

"Is that what's upsetting you? The culprit who wrote the card?" she finally said. With a firm resolve, she met my eyes a final time, peering into my insecurities. She found them all, extracted them and brought them to the surface, leaving me bare and raw, a vessel of emotions – a million Personas at once fighting and trying to win my voice and my mind. The man who wrote Naoto's card disturbed me deeply. Naoto saw that. And my fierce will to prevent Naoto's natural romance from occurring might have been, just now, the catalyst to start my nightmare from happening.


	7. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Naoto stopped trying to talk to me after school. She used to stand near the front gate, her heart-rendering figure looming in my peripherals as I'd sweep past her. With my head ducked, I would charge forward as I escaped campus, leaving her standing there, feeling her hot stare into the back of my head until a swift turn around the bend would fade me out of view. I couldn't bear the thought of Naoto's ethereal gray eyes and tightly bound boy's uniform - her short, silk hair, loose and lightly tousled under her hat. Catching any glimpse of her would inflame me with emotion, so I kept my eyes forward.

My ability to face her was entirely lost when Yukiko turned in her seat during one day of class and said, "I saw Naoto and Kanji together. They seemed so happy." My chest had melted, became molten and charred. After school that day, Kanji bounded up to me with a smile plastered across his face, giving strong buddy-punches to my shoulder and telling me how I really _was_ being a good friend after all. He said he should have trusted me from the beginning. I would never betray him. No. Not ever.

I told him it was no problem – even though it was. And I told him I was happy for him. Then I walked out the front gate where Naoto gave up on standing. I walked out the gate, never intending to go back.

* * *

"So you wish to fuse the Lovers and Fool Arcana?" said Margaret. We both knelt over the coffee table of the Velvet Room, entranced as we stared at the cards. My eyebrows knitted together as I suddenly became doubtful of my choice, then threw the cards back with the dozen others. The corner of Margeret's lip pinched downward as her head slowly moved side to side. "Forgive me for saying this, but you have been here an awfully long time and you have yet to decide on a single fusion."

"What can I say?" I said. "I'm a perfectionist."

"Doubtful," said Margaret, her angelic figure poised on the limo's seating cushion, with the same professional aura she always maintained. "I can sense from your heart that you are experiencing a strong turbulence with a social link. From that of the Fortune Arcana."

"Nothing gets past you, does it Margaret?" I said, lifting the Fool card again and contemplating its properties.

"Unfortunately, nothing does," said Margaret. "Your fate is linked to this room. The contract binds us. I cannot help but know such things."

"Oh my. It must be _such_ a burden." I hurled the card back into the stack, pushing my knees tight against the floor as I moved to stand.

"Sometimes it is. But this time, I see it as an opportunity to aid you." She gave me a composed smile, which appeared slightly less daunting above her eye level. "You have done a magnificent thing. The power in your heart is stronger than Igor and I ever imagined."

"I don't believe that at all," I said. "If anything, I'm weaker. Especially if you admit I've gotten worse at fusions."

"No..." Her eyes trailed down and lingered on the cards, silently admitting that – yes – I have gotten worse. But the strong, inhuman essence she maintained showed honesty. Every line that came from Margaret tended to be absolute fact. "The power is within you. However, you must face it in order to harness it."

"You mean, like a shadow?" I said. Since speaking to Naoto, I have been contemplating my lack of shadow. For the first time, it made me realize that perhaps it meant that I had nothing to offer. My Persona is that of the wild card – empty. And that's exactly how I felt: like a hollow shell.

"That's right. Like a shadow," said Margaret with a humming chuckle. "Even if you don't have a literal shadow to face, there are still strengths within you that you must address in order to acquire its abilities."

I navigated her statuesque face, finding no trace of emotion, no hint to uncover what she just meant. But her words resonated with me if only because they were so close to what Naoto had said to me before we had stopped talking. I may not have a shadow. I may be 'empty,' but I still had aspects of myself to face. None of it made sense. How could I face parts of myself that I deny when I have no shadow?

When we had discovered the TV world, I never thought I would be wishing to be like them, going through suffering just to feel as _human_ as them. I felt somehow connected to the Velvet Room, like a part of me was _other_.

Margaret's gaze drifted back to me, a subtle smile fading to her lips. It was a simple expression, but I recognized it immediately. It was her little sign she'd give every time she was preparing to change course or tell me something new. Her long hands with their manicured pointy nails raised in a small salute as she said "It's time for you to go now."

* * *

There I stood. Amongst fog. Endless, dark particles hastily and aimlessly colliding, panicked and lost.

A vibration came from beneath my feet and I heard the sound an engine, so faint that I was unsure if I heard it at all. Even with my glasses the gray, smoky blanket remained thick. After each layer of fog, there was another, resulting in the sensation that I was standing amongst nothing at all, where emptiness only existed. But despite my expectations, no uneasiness came from this. It felt somehow familiar.

I walked tirelessly, without any fatigue, hunger, or thirst. Before long a shapeless dark figure came into view, directly in front of my path as if placed there purposely. As I continued toward it, the shape became crisper, showing a bi-pedal silhouette - a person. There were signs of clothing, such as the spikes at the neck to resemble a collar. The curve of a hat. I became fascinated by every new detail that appeared, such as the fact its weight shifted ever-so-slightly to the left. It bore slender hands, arms, and thighs. I was soon marveling at every new detail that came into view. I drank in its loveliness and felt my legs propel me forward.

The figure leaned forward and then called out in its soft, tantalizing voice, "Senpai? Are you there?"

"Yes. Yes, it's me," I shouted back.

I sprinted. The fog rushed past me, swinging out of the way and forming a tunnel for me to pass through. Every new step brought me closer to elation as I felt her presence growing more real.

And then I was there. A tower of TVs came into view. Set lights. A stage. I was at the studio, where we always meet upon entering from Junes. The fog was gone like it never existed. I was back in reality, standing in front of _the_ Naoto.

"I- I thought I would find you here. But why did you come from that direction? We've never been that way," said Naoto, pupils quivering as she looked up toward me as I now acknowledged her for the first time in ages. Her ivory skin sparkled with pristine clarity and her small soft lips were captivating in their subtle elegance. She was the exact, painful person I remembered.

"Not sure what I was doing here. Exploring, I guess," I said.

"Please. Don't go on such ventures alone. We all worry about you." Her scared, trembling lips and her wrinkled forehead seemed, if only slightly, staged. She played the sincerity of a detective trying to get her way.

"You can save your worrying," I said, thinking of Yukiko and of Kanji. Remembering her fierce glare during interrogations "What's more important is _your_ safety, Naoto. Go home."

"I refuse. I came here to retrieve you and clear up this nonsense."

"This nonsense?" I smirked, hiding the pain that stabbed within me as I searched for the most pessimistic option, the _real_ reason she would seek me out. "By that you mean you want to get more information out of me?"

"What are you saying?" she said, hands by her side, grounded into the floor like a fragile sapling during an earthquake.

"It's simple. You want to know more about the Velvet Room. You want me to tell you my secret. It's the only reason why you ever talked to me."

"Senpai," she took a step back, recoiling with a hand pushing down on the top of her hat. "Talking to you... it feels like facing my Shadow over again."

"Well, maybe I _feel_ like a shadow. I think I am becoming one."

"Stop it. Don't say nonsensical things like that. It's blasphemy."

A maniacal chuckle erupted from my chest. I felt so much pain and longing that it came out in wicked smiles, laughter, and horrendous teasing. My body was beyond my control. Naoto stood, taking it with far more strength than I could produce.

The visor of her hat veiled her eyes from me. "I suppose, if you were my shadow Senpai, I would tell you that it's true I wanted information when I first met you and the others. And I still do care deeply about solving the case. But my drive has gone beyond the need to prove myself as a detective. It's because of the bonds I have cultivated with the others – and – with you, that I continue to persist the way I do."

I heaved deep breaths as I tried to retain Naoto's words. Even when uttering that key phrase, "the Velvet Room," Naoto didn't stop to question what I meant by it. Her detective's mind had veered off and she was operating on other grounds, trying to be honest with me, harnessing the strength that she developed when facing her shadow the first time. Her eyes were fixated on me, shoulders locked, leaning forward, jaw clenched. Her eyes were dark like granite - solid and stable. Facing her shadow gave her a Persona of extreme strength, but I had no specific Persona to my name nor a shadow to align myself by. Seeing my reflection within her glistening irises instilled self-loathing within me.

"I suppose this would be the time I turn into your Persona," I said. "But I am incapable of doing that for you."

"Yes you can, Senpai. Of course you can," she said, taking in a deep breath that flowed out through her mouth and touching my face. Her breathing made her taller, bolder, as she drifted closer and brought her steadfast gaze in direct contact with mine. "You _can_ be my Persona because you are my strength. _You_ are the reason I am here. I won't leave without you."

* * *

**Author Note (5/11/13): **I am pleased to announce my seventh installment to this series. Your support has been fantastic and has challenged me in ways I didn't expect. Each chapter is more difficult to write than the last, and this one is no exception. I've recently acquired a full-time job as a writer (it's not as cool as it sounds), but this side-project is a delight to come home to. Thanks you, P4 fans. Please continue reading, review, and enjoy!


	8. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7**

Naoto knelt down in front of her school backpack. She opened the large flap and stared down into its black pit. "We're not going to leave here until we find what's wrong," she said.

"With me, you mean?" I said, reclining on the stacks of TVs of the studio, contorting my back against one TV and propping my heels against another. I kept a curious watch from above Naoto as she peered into the backpack while on her knees.

"Nothing is wrong with _you_, per se, but something caused major psychological trauma and we best examine it before we move forward."

"Fine, Doctor Naoto. How about you write me down as 'insane' and call the case closed?"

She gave an empty smile that stretched her believable sympathy. With her hands plunged into the belly of her denim dark backpack, she pulled out a book on Jung psychology with its very same washed-out rainbow cover. "How about we start from the beginning?" she said.

"You mean, birth?"

"Well, maybe not _so_ far." She lowered an eyebrow as she flipped through the pages, then stopped at a particular point of reference. She placed it by her side and resumed her attention toward me. "We only need to begin from exact point in time you began to feel the way you did. And then we can analyze the specifics of the situation based off of the conditions you experienced to pinpoint a cause."

"What if I can't tell you?"

"No need to be embarrassed. I will never stick any accusations upon you or think any less of you."

"Okay," I breathed. "I guess..." the first image flashed in my mind. Of the priestess: her crescent eyes and her excited chatter. "Yukiko."

"What with Yukiko?"

"She said something that gave me very strange feelings." Naoto's engrossed, calculating stare urged me to continue. "Feelings. Something like confusion. Jealousy, even."

"With Yukiko?" she said.

"Yes. And then. I felt like- Like my chest was on fire."

"Oh," said Naoto. Her gaze drifted from me as she dragged her backpack closer to retrieve a notebook from it. She flipped it open and limply placed a couple words. "Yes. Yes, that makes sense. It's completely reasonable for a boy your age to be facing feelings of confusion and jealousy."

"I-it is?"

"Yes. I'm sure you're behaving, well, as you are supposed to – as a teenager. It may make you feel weak and like you're the only one, but trust me when I tell you that you are indeed never alone." Her gaze remained fixed downward. She unscrewed and rescrewed the barrel of her ballpoint. "And you must understand Yukiko must be experiencing similar feelings."

"Yukiko? What does this have to do with her?"

"Nothing," she said. "It's beside the point." With only the two words glistening in blue ink on the top of her page, she patted the notebook closed and stood with stiff shoulders. "I want to apologize to you, Senpai. Even when you were revealing something completely personal to me as a friend, I still felt this forlorn hope that you were going to bring me closer to something about the case. It's true – I really _am_ intrigued by the abnormalities of your abilities, and even if I wasn't cognitively aware, I was interrogating you. Please forgive me."

"No. It's okay. It's fine that you 'interrogate' me. I'm letting you."

"You're incorrect. My motives are entirely unethical. Don't let me."

"But you can. Because your intuition is right. There _is_ an 'abnormality' in me, and I can't figure out what the hell it is."

"However, now I am certain we are going about it entirely the wrong way. Your feelings are not my domain."

"Naoto," I heaved a deep sigh and shrugged in a spineless fall off the TVs. "Listen to me." I faced her, barely meeting her gaze as she looked directly upward. Her breath noticeably became heavier as her pupils dilated, her entire chest rising and falling. "There is one thing I understand about this world. Every part of me – every word I speak, every expression I make – it's connected to this world. Sometimes I have moments when I forget my parents, my home, my old friends in the city. It feels like a dream that I constructed. But Inaba. This world. It's crystal clear, like it's where my life truly began."

"Senpai," she mumbled. "Well, maybe we should have started from birth after all."

"I want you to take out your notebook again and write me down as crazy. Honest to God. Because truly, that's what I am."

"I can't do that, Senpai. Your point of view it too precious to discard second-hand for a mere claim of insanity."

"Discarded?" A lump formed in my throat, falling like a massive anvil to my chest. "You mean, you believe me?"

"You seem to be forgetting." A delicate smile formed on her small lips, meek and polite with a slight playfulness in the eyes. It wasn't entirely full, but muted. Like she was harnessing strength to hold herself back from showing something truly stunning. "I only remember one instance I discarded a testimony right away, and that was when Yukiko and Rise, while admittedly a bit intoxicated, told me about the TV and personas. I will never make such a foolish mistake again." The smile faded into tiny embers that showed a suppressed warmth. She said, "There is no way I can deny you."

* * *

**Author Note (5/11/13):** Thanks so much for your patience in this (albeit small) next installment. The last piece sparked an exciting, vibrant dialogue. You guys are so intelligent. I never tire hearing your take on the troubled and exciting inner-selves of the P4 characters. As always, please read, review and enjoy!


	9. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8**

4am. My phone rumbled on the bearau with a text: "Outside". The phone's gleaming light penetrated the dark, causing me to drag my legs off the bed. I jiggled the bedside window until it creaked open.

"Too early?" a soft voice sliced through the darkness. I squinted through, trying to spot her somewhere along the slopping hill next to my home. "Oh it is, isn't it?" she said. "I will return another time. Don't be inconvenienced by me."

I heard a small rustle of grass. She was beginning to depart.

"Not okay," I said. "There's a killer on the loose, you know?"

The rustling stopped, a contemplative hum massaging the air between us. "You understand better than anyone the killer acts in broad daylight, and certainly not on a clear day like this one."

"There are other people out there. People other than the one killer."

"I'm aware," she said. "But I am not concerned."

"Why not?"

"Because," she paused for a long time, for silent contemplation, to succinctly compile data in a summary that I would easily understand. "Because," she resumed, "I have a gun."

"_And_ you have me," I said. "I'm coming down."

After clattering down the stairs and sweeping open the front door, I found Naoto at the welcome mat, puffing a small cloud of mist above her bound blue scarf around her white neck. Under a shower of wispy bangs and airbrushed pink cheeks, she held an atlus barred tightly to her chest with her forearm.

"You lead the way," she whispered.

Her elevator shoes vibrated against the steps as her eyes traced me to my bedroom. She waited for me to close the door before speaking again.

"So this is your room. It's exactly as I imagined."

"How you imagined?" I asked.

"Oh. Well. Imagining – you know – for professional reasons."

"Professional?"

"Perhaps 'professional' wasn't the proper usage as well." She stiffly leaned back and dropped her book on the couch. "I meant 'practical', rather."

With rigid steps, she scanned the room, eyes boring into the bearau and the brass globe – which was there when I arrived – innocently sitting with no attempt at providing clues.

After a small hesitation, she mumbled, "Have you ever read _Blink_ by Malcolm Gladwell? He argues people can piece together impressive details about people in only a snapshot with the eyes. This is especially true in the midst of a data-heavy location. Such as a bedroom. Detectives need to be skilled at this. Though they _end_ with evidence and facts, they _start_ with practiced hunches. The more familiar circumstances the detective encounters, the better he can develop possible scenarios and look in the proper places for clues."

"So," I said as she gave a smoldering gaze at my small box TV, "What does my bedroom say? And why investigate? Think I'm the killer?"

"No," her posture stiffened more as she looked at me. Promptly, she clasps four slender fingers against her lips and her eyes bolted wide. "Of course. Senpai," she said, her deepened voice breaking into something more natural. "I'm interrogating you again. I came out here in the middle of the night to question you. I hardly realized – "

"It's okay."

"No. I woke you up purely for purposes that has nothing to do with friendship. I'm putting the case in danger as well, with Detective Dojima-san just across the hall. I apologize. I shall leave immediately and return at a time that's appropriate for you."

She swiveled on her feet and marched toward the door, but in time I grabbed her shoulders and squeezed them between my hands. In a fierce whisper, I said, "I already _told_ you that I'm not letting you back out there."

I felt her shoulders deflate under her heavily padded jacket, which, just then, I offered to take off for her. She let me drape it over the couch as she sat down herself. She exhaled slowly, limply resting her hand atop the book by her side. "Stay here. You mean, stay the night."

She said it like a fact. I didn't respond.

"I am fine with it if that is what would make you at ease. I hardly get sleep anyhow."

She gazed distantly over my shoulder, drifting and spinning in lines of thought that I know I could never fish from her intricate, infinitely complex pond of contemplation.

"So," I said.

"Hm?"

"The thing. The thing you came here for."

"Ah yes," she lifted the book and placed it in my hands. "I have a homework assignment for you. It's important."

"What's the homework for?" I asked.

"No. I couldn't say. That would tamper with the conditions."

"Conditions?"

"Here." She strode to my desk, promptly found pen and paper and placed it on the desk. "Work here."

"Now?" I hesitated, lowering myself to the chair and scooting myself close to the desktop.

"Okay. Now here's the assignment. Listen carefully," she flipped the atlus open to a map of Japan. "I need you to list all of the places you have lived throughout your life. A list of places and time spans. Get as specific as you can. If you can only remember a city, write the city, but if you can point out a street or coordinates, write that. Same with the date. Go to the day if you can, but if not, try the month or the year. Get as many concrete details down as you can. Do you understand?"

I stopped myself from asking her for the point of this exercise again. Already, we stopped playing friends and this was again an interrogation.

"No? Perfect. I will be over here then." She wandered to my collection of books, knelt down and ran a finger along the spines. She selected a title and returned to the couch, leaving me – before breaking dawn – to encode my past.

* * *

I decided to start with my childhood and work my way forward to the most tangible memories. As the detective prince already knew, my parents traveled for work so we hardly spent any time for one place. They sent me to Inaba believing I would benefit from staying in one place, giving me the opportunity to forge real friendships. They felt guilty, like they were damaging my development due to the constant travels. But because of it, I have gotten skills at making fast friends and leaving those friendships behind. We moved after a couple weeks, a couple months. Cities would merge into one another and local restaurants would clash. My grade school teachers were a blur, going from Mister or Misses Fujita to Harada to Sagawara to Chiba in a single memory. My neighbor's cats had short hair, long hair, or coarse hair in shades of orange or speckled white or black. My best friends sometimes wore glasses or had bad teeth or had an obsession with Shoji Meguro's music compositions. And as I flipped through the islands of Japan, zooming in with each page to cities or districts, I remembered them. The townspeople, the sounds of a lawnmower at 7am, the billboards, but as a single entity.

"Time's up," said Naoto, clapping her book closed.

"Time? I was being timed?" I said.

"Relax. There's no wrong answer," she said.

"How about this as a wrong answer?" I held the paper up: clean, white, blank.

She sauntered behind my shoulder and took her time looking at the piece of paper as if staring would force writing onto the page. "Tell me – carefully – what went wrong?" she said.

"I just didn't have enough time," I said. "Had I known I was being timed, I would have worked from the most recent backward, not from birth forward."

"How about more recently then? Yosuke told me you were from the city, but one does not need to ask. Your clothes give your urbanity away." She leaned close to me, took hold of the pages of the atlus and flipped back to the plain map of Japan. "Now show me – on this map – what city did you just come from?"

I stared at the map.

"You have five seconds." Her deep, ice voice pieced through the still silence of the evening, her interrogation in full swing as she pressed her palm against my back, pressuring me, demanding me. "Five . . . Four . . . what city, Senpai . . . three . . . two . . ." Her voice elevated in intensity beyond what I had seen her do, purely masculine and entirely disciplined in her fury. "Tell me NOW, Senpai!"

"I don't _know_!"

Her hands left my back and quickly through her cold lips against my ear. "Now tell me, what day did you arrive at Inaba."

"April 11th," I snapped.

"Good. That's all I need to know."

With a palpitating heart, I looked to Naoto. A surprisingly serene smile plastered across her face. As if nothing had transpired, her eyes flickered across the room. "I suppose it's time to go to bed."

* * *

**Author Note (8/17/13): **Hello P4 fanatics. It has been just over three months since my last installment. I waited too long to get started on the next part and began to hate my own work (You know, because I want to go back and fix it by deleting the first 4 chapters and completely rearranging others before even starting on the next part). But after some distance I pushed through the self-loathing and came out with another chapter. When I write my chapters I first do it by hand in a notebook at nights or in coffee shops, then on the weekend I type them up and revise. Rather, that's what I _would_ do if I made a habit of it. Anyway, enjoy! And please comment or subscribe (because I intend on continuing).


	10. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9**

"Compliments from Dojima," I said, silently reentering my bedroom with a round clay teacup of coffee. "Black, like you asked."

Lying across the floor, back propped by the front of the couch, she delicately handled the cup.

"No worries," I said. "He has no idea you are here."

"That's a relief. There's no telling what he'd do if he knew I was here. Especially if he was aware..."

"Aware of what?"

"He doesn't know, does he? That I'm a –"

"No. I don't think so."

"Good. Let's keep it that way. For now, at least."

I eased myself on the floor next to her. Her hair was disheveled and tears framed her eyes from yawning. Despite her intentions, she had fallen asleep.

"Say Dojima did know. How would you feel?" I asked.

She looked off, letting the steam wisp and curl around her lips and cheeks. Then she returned and the answer emerged on her eyes. "I could play it to my advantage. Being female has a distinct allowance."

"How so?" I said, dragging Naoto's jacket from the couch and bunching it up to prop my head.

She took a close-eyed, contemplative sip of her coffee. "It would make this ordeal simpler. Perhaps create a diversion from the case. We could meet, not in secrecy, and investigate while Detective Dojima-san has other concerns on his mind."

"That makes enough sense," I mused.

"And it would be easier to get information from him," she added.

"Information?"

"Consider this: if we were to stage a wedding, Dojima would reveal information about your mother to me as an in-law. I can get vital details – how to contact her, for instance."

She articulated her thoughts in such a sleepy softness, with such strange nonchalance that her explanation left me dumbfounded. "Wait. Shouldn't you think _I_ know how to contact my own mother?"

"Do you?" Her foggy eyes drifted to me with a faded smile, treating the conversation like it required no deduction at all.

I let the begrudging answer slip from my lips: "No."

"Perfect. It all makes sense," she said.

"Well a lot of it doesn't make sense to _me_," I said. "You haven't explained one thing since you got here."

The swelling irritation inside me played no role in Naoto's reply: "That was intentional. But now I'm an open book. Ask away."

Her unfeeling granite eyes regarded me with infuriating passivity. I didn't want to fish for my answers like she so enjoyed. "First of all," I said. "Why does the whole 'couple' thing have to be an act? I mean, you're not _acting_ like a girl. Technically, if Dojima found out he would have stumbled upon you as your true self."

"That's true, and a good observation," said Naoto. "However, I chose to be a man because it grants me certain attitudes. Same with being female. Even when the investigation team found out the truth –" She paused, took a hurried sip of coffee, then added, "Well, let's just say I never forgot when Rise called me 'little missy.'"

"Yeah – but – _play_ deranged teenage romance so you can _get_ information?"

"No," said Naoto. "We were playing a '_what if_' game. We agree Dojima is better off in the dark. The wedding plan was only a joke."

"A joke?"

"Yeah." She gave me a slow, sleepy blink. "I am capable of joking."

I rose from the floor and darted toward the door. "Dojima and Nanako left by now. Let yourself out whenever."

* * *

I rummaged in the kitchen for breakfast. Found leftover miso soup and began to heat it in a sauce pan, stirring it gently as I heard the creaking patter of steps as Naoto descended the stairs. I felt her presence looming behind me as I watched the broth ripple and then boil.

"I thought you had questions," she said.

"I _did_," I replied, "But I'm not interested in your answers anymore."

She stayed behind me, still for a long moment as I transferred the meal to a bowl and then reached for a remote and switched on the TV. A male announcer's voice echoed through the living room.

"You also watch the news in the morning?" Naoto remarked.

"Dojima does," I said, switching to the weather.

"Oh."

She continued to stand, arms straight to her side as if unaware how to operate them.

"Are you going to let yourself out?" I said.

"No. You're mad. I don't understand why."

"You should be able to deduce it."

The TV droned between us. Once again, clear skies today and a meteor shower at night. 'A perfect evening to experience with your loved ones,' remarked the meteorologist.

"You should have let me leave when I wanted to. I told you I was there to interrogate you, and that I was wrong to interrupt your evening, but you let me. I'm not – well – I don't really know how to be a friend."

"Obviously," I said.

"I didn't have many growing up. Detective stories kept me plenty busy during recess."

"Mm-hm."

"Senpai," she whined, taking a couple steps toward me and halting as I brushed passed her and moved to sit at the table, facing away from her and toward the TV.

"I can _remember_, Senpai," broke out Naoto in urgency. She opened her mouth and let it hang there for a long moment before finally forcing vocals into the air. "I can remember specific moments in my life from a very young age. For instance, I was making Valentine's chocolates for my parents as a school craft assignment one day. My grandpa showed up at my classroom door, pulled me out of class, and told me that my parents were leaving. Going far away for a big case. They weren't likely to return for a long time, he said. But I could tell he was lying. He was blinking a lot and his voice was breaking and even then I was a small enthusiast for picking up on these details. I sneaked into his car when he wasn't looking, so my grandpa unknowingly took me to the scene of the crime. I saw my parents getting wheeled into an ambulance on stretchers. They died instantly in a brutal car accident February 12th, 2001 at approximately 11:25am."

Warily, I did not look at her. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because I _remember_, Senpai. Snapshots of our memory stay burned in us forever."

"Yeah? So?" Her story kept me cautious. Sentimental stories were things people of all kinds quickly divulged to me in order to win sympathy.

"Just last night you expressed that you can't pinpoint where you were and when at any point in your life. You said you sometimes have moments when the shadow world and Inaba feel more real than anything else up until that point. Well, there's a reason you think that. And we proved it."

"I didn't mean it when I told you about it. It was just how I _felt_."

"But it's _real_, Senpai. Explain your powers. Explain how you were able to awaken everybody else to theirs."

Unable to resist, I finally turned to face her. She had drifted quite close and was now on her knees, eyes burning into mine. "Teddie calls you Sensei. Why is that?" demanded Naoto.

"He did... after he saw my powers," I answered.

"That's right. Because you are a _link_ to that world. You can help us understand how it works and close it forever, thus eliminating the murders."

"I couldn't," I said.

"Not alone. You have friends."

"'Friends' other than you?"

The turned away is if the force of my words slapped her. "You have Yukiko," she muttered.

"But what about you?" my voice cracked. "I need you."

"You _have_ me," she snapped.

* * *

The peace of the moment was short, cut off by the sharp clatter at the doorsteps and the metallic urgency of the rumbling doorknob as the front entrance gave way to a beach-blonde beast, swinging forward with a jacket cape. "Senpai! The craziest thing just happened. I-"

His jaw unhinged and dropped open in a freeze-frame moment as he beheld the scene: Naoto, without her hat, bed head, and wrinkled clothes, sitting with me so close on the floor that she was centimeters from my lap.

"Wha- What the hell is going on here?!" he bellowed.

"That's not melodramatic," I deadpanned.

"What is alarming you, Kanji?" said Naoto.

Kanji took a moment to hyperventilate. We waited, not feeling safe to move from our compromising positions. His focus flashed to her for an instant, but her presence repelled him to fix his furious posture and clenched fists aligned toward me.

"Nothing is 'alarming' me," steamed Kanji. "I just – I just want to know why my eyes have been playing tricks on me two times in one freaking day."

"Please Kanji," said Naoto. "Explain carefully. What did you want to tell Senpai?"

Kanji heaved deep breaths, collecting his thoughts and cooling his fury. "It's just- You know that Marie-chan chick? I saw her this morning in the shopping district. "And... And..."

"What is it, Kanji?" soothed Naoto.

"She disappeared, Senpai. She disappeared into thin air!"

* * *

**Author's Note(8/25/2013): **Hello followers and new visitors alike! I've been getting requests for awhile to include Kanji in the FanFic, and finally I have managed it. Kanji is a scary character for me to portray because in real life I talk much like Naoto, so my fear is writing Kanji-slang that sounds horribly forced or painfully two-dimensional. While I acknowledge there's a wealth of little nuances in Kanji, am I good enough to _portray _them?

Anyway, I have been deciding to go with the Ernest Hemingway technique of writing: always leave off in a place you know exactly what happens next. So you readers can trust I know what's going to happen beyond this chapter by at least a couple minutes.

As always, read, review, enjoy! And PM me, too. I'm always up to hear requests, rants, or simply exchange banter about P4 in general.


	11. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10**

Kanji joined me at the table. When his knees thumped against the ground with his colossal, hard body, Naoto hastened to rise. She entered the kitchen, flinging cabinets open and closed until she found a tin of sencha hiding in a crevice on the counter.

Despite her evasiveness, I knew Naoto wanted to interview Kanji. However, the circumstances flustered her enough to avoid the opportunity. Naoto set the kettle to boil and watched it with a silent expectation for me to take her place in this interrogation.

"Please, tell us again exactly what you saw," I said in a way I thought a detective might ask had Naoto been willing. "Start from the beginning."

Kanji turned so that his blunt forehead faced Naoto's backside. He scanned her up and down, seeming to have lost interest in the urgent matter at hand. His interest flashed back to us – what might have transpired between us. The sad reality sank in my chest that nothing had.

"Sure, I'll tell you," said Kanji. "I was in town, going to open shop. Marie-chan was on a bench. She seemed lonely. I thought about saying hi."

"What was she doing alone by herself?" I asked, noticing the kettle's small scream and puff of steam as Naoto filled a tea pot with a mechanical movement and disengaged expression.

"She was writing something. I mean, I think that's what she was doing. She seemed to be thinking. Didn't notice me at all."

"It must have been a poem," I mused.

"Marie-chan writes poetry?" said Kanji. His loud note broke Naoto's trance, her eyes penetrating me through the steaming kitchen.

"She does," I said. Then after a hesitation, "I like her poems."

The tea platter hit the living room table with a small clatter of silver spoons and clay cups. Naoto held the small tea filter above each cup and poured a shaky, rippling and splattering cup-full for each of us. "What about her poems intrigued you?" her deep voice vibrated underneath the clatter of pottery. Kanji's eyes flashed to me in what seemed to be surprise.

"The themes, I suppose," I said, giving an apprehensive shrug.

"Senpai," Kanji's hard body leered forward. "I never pegged you for that type. How can you like poetry? It's all puzzles and mystery and-" he stole a glance at Naoto, then clipped his sentence short.

"What themes?" said Naoto. "What did Marie-chan write about?"

"I don't know. About being caged in a lost identity, maybe? Dwelling in loneliness, hating herself and finding solace in herself at once – I don't know. It's hard to explain how I connect to it." As I said it, I scavenged the brief glances I was able to glean of Marie's poems. Something about a little mermaid unable to return, or the single line 'I scorn the company of my own shadow.' It made me remember with a bitter sting in my heart that I had no shadow at all to scorn.

"Fascinating. It seems that the two of you share a connection on a possibly psychological level. Your childhoods could interconnect in some way," Naoto remarked as if on my thoughts rather than my vocalization. "And where do you think-"

"Woah there," said Kanji, prepping a fist to pound on the table. "Why are you asking Senpai the questions? Stop being so interested in him and listen to _me!_"

Naoto gaped – stunned – then muttered, "You're right" with astonishment. His glare was stunningly forceful, so strong that even Naoto sought out to correct herself. Kanji gave the type of outburst that made every action afterward seem like treachery. "Please, continue your story Kanji." Naoto sank to her knees, fidgeting with her hands, paying polite attention to eye contact.

Pride bubbled to Kanji's face, lifting the teacup as he drank Naoto's staged attention. "So she was writing a poem. Then she stood in front of a brick wall. And then she disappeared. She wasn't acting weird or anything. She wasn't like 'Oh my God, I'm disappearing.' She looked like she was _doing_ the vanishing if that makes any goddam sense."

"It does," I said.

Naoto unknowingly locked her attention back onto me. I knew at once she could tell my nonchalant reaction showed familiarity with Kanji's situation. Naoto's own lack of interest confirmed it. She read me from the beginning: Marie-chan's disappearance was not a mystery at all. I knew where she went. She was safe and I could see her anytime. Naoto's single look transferred this understanding to me. We were together on all of this, playing Kanji. And the next step on Naoto's investigation wasn't what Kanji might expect.

Kanji's prepped fist gave a loud pound, sending ripples and splatters of tea droplets as the pottery shivered in fright. Kanji bolted to his feet. "Now that we got the Marie-chan situation out in the open, why don't you tell me this: what the _hell_ is going on between you two?!"

"Nothing Kanji," said Naoto, more abrupt and defensive than her cool demeanor seemed capable of. "We are collaborating on the _case_."

"Well, that's not the only thing you've been '_collaborating'_ on. Senpai, how can you do this? You're my best friend."

"We are _all_ friends of Senpai here. Why can't I just see Senpai as a – as a – you know," broke out Naoto, her voice escalating into femininity. "Why do you assume that my interest in being here is not as platonic as, say, Yosuke's or Teddie's?"

"I don't need to spell it out, 'Detective Prince'. Because you're _not_ a guy, alright?!" said Kanji.

Naoto stood and forced her way to the front door, posture poised, gliding with a stiffness that showed her final effort at remaining composed. Her fierce gaze pierced the room, haunting us with the burning moisture caged in her eyes as she released her final words:

"I am _not_ a girl!"

The door thundered closed. With a patter of steps, Naoto was gone.

* * *

We spent a good minute listening to to the silence, the still echos of Naoto's recent presence casting a shattering and vulnerable emotion on us.

"You _really_ don't understand her, do you?" I said.

"Senpai, I didn't mean to do that to her, alright? I didn't know she'd react like that," said Kanji.

"All she wants is to be taken seriously, and all _you_ want is a go at her!"

"Oh?! And _you're_ not the same?" said Kanji. "She spent the _night_ here and you can't say it's because you weren't interested."

I fiercely bit my lip, a scowl burning into the crevices of my hot face.

"You like her, Senpai. Admit it," said Kanji.

"No!"

"Why not?!"

"Because," I said, slamming my palms against the table and thrusting my forehead up to his. "Because that would make us enemies."

* * *

**Author's Note(9/22/2013): **Hello P4 Fans and Fanettes. Welcome to chapter ten! Thousands of words later, writing Naoto has not gotten easier. The trick to P4 characters is they are caricatures-but-not. Naoto is so clear-cut yet impossible to define. I'm always battling with myself whether I have mixed the right levels of professional with affectionate with clueless with insightful. She's a girl who gets passionately excited with her work, and I think that her extensive vocabulary and insight comes across when she gets into a 'zone'. But in reality she's modest and casual - a wallflower, sitting in her thoughts and sometimes forgetting that others see her too. My heart always goes out to her. High School must be a horrible time to be in as a child detective trying to forget that despite her attempts to skip childhood, she has to grow up too.

As always, feel free to subscribe, review, or PM me. I always love hearing your insights about P4!


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